


Lord of Hurts

by Cartoongore



Category: LISA (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Attempted Murder, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Fish Kicking, Fly Minetti Abuse, Gen, Heavy Swearing, I’ll add more tags as the story progresses, Ominous Warnings, Revenge, Stabbing, Violence, first couple of chapters aren’t violent but it picks up, this takes place after the former friend fight because i refuse to believe terry was killed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:29:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23503144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cartoongore/pseuds/Cartoongore
Summary: Terry Hintz (renicknamed “Terrible Terry” by Columbo and his Gents) was believed to have been murdered trying to seek vengeance against Brad. Soon after this event, however, strange warnings scrawled on torn up pieces of paper start appearing wherever Brad goes. These warnings, written in the same messy handwriting Terry’s hints were, raise a single question: is Terry really dead?
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	1. Ghost of the Weird Fucking Hint Guy

**Author's Note:**

> The 1st chapter is pretty dry, it’s mainly Fly and Brad in toddler court because Fly likes saying mean things to Brad

“I don’t fuckin’ get it.” Fly slammed a now empty bottle of onion vodka down on the ground, scowling. “You said he was _dead_. You and some other assholes beat the fuck out of him, you said. And now you’re fuckin’ saying he’s alive and leaving more of his stupid fuckin’ hints around here?” 

Brad nodded silently. Fly groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re a fuckin’ dumbass, Brad. It’s probably some random asshole trying to mess with you. I’m really not surprised you think it’s the ghost of that weird fuckin’ hint guy you eviscerated. Because you’re stupid.” 

A few moments of silence pass. Before Fly could open his mouth to talk more shit, the travelers’ very own lawyer and fishman, Harvey, stepped in between the two. Of course, there was always enough space for someone to step between them, since Fly wouldn’t let Brad within 6 feet of him. 

“Now, now, gentlemen,” the fish said with a small smile, “Let’s hear both sides of this. Mr. fly cosplay guy, why don’t you believe Brad?”

Fly chose to ignore Harvey’s comment and presented his argument to the makeshift court. ”Because he’s as dumb as a bucket of fuckin’ hair! He was talking with that weird fuckin’ Robin Hood looking bastard a couple of days ago (this comment elicited an annoyed huffing noise from Olan) about that stupid hint guy and how bad he felt about beating the shit out of him! He even said something about watching him fall over and fuckin’ _die!_ And now he’s taking back those comments all because he saw some stupid poster!”

”Mhm...” Harvey... nodded?, turning his attention to Brad. “Mr. I-Fucked-A-Poor-Man’s-Wife, why do you believe that it’s the hint guy leaving these warnings behind?”

Brad dug around in a hidden pocket inside of his poncho, producing two pieces of folded paper. He tried to walk over and hand them over to Fly, but the rancid fly man hissed at him and stepped back.

”I’m not taking that when your _disgusting_ little hands are touching them.”

Brad sighed, dropped the two pieces of paper at Fly’s feet, and stepped back a reasonable distance. 

“Ooh, what are those?” Harvey asked, studying the folded papers intently. 

“Unfold ‘em.” Brad said simply. 

Fly hesitantly sat down and unfolded the two pieces of paper that had been gracelessly thrown down by his feet. One was written in a thick black marker It was something about befriending people in bars, signed with “Chugga-Luggin’ Terry!” The obvious thoughtfulness and love that was put into this little pro-tip combined with the name it was signed with made Fly want to puke up everything he ate that day.

The other one was made with much less care. The paper was wrinkled and bloodstained, and it smelled like cigarettes and formaldehyde, and the dark red pen that was used to write this note was already fading. This one was simpler. It said, **HAVING FUN WITH YOUR NEW FRIENDS?** And was only signed with a “T”. 

Fly was silent for a good 3 minutes, staring at the notes. A new record. “How does this fuckin’ prove anything, dumbass?” 

“Same handwriting. Terry starts with a T.” 

“Oh, please, it could be fuckin’ anyone. Lots of names start with a fuckin’ T. Tom, Tim, Travis, Trevor-”

”Oh, don’t forget Tony!” Harvey piped in. 

“Yeah. What the little fish guy said. Oh! I forgot some. How about... Tucker, Tanner, Tobias-“

”Tobias?” Olan piped in. “Who in the goddamn hell names their child that?? Who would let that happen?”

”I don’t fuckin’ know!”

There was now a loud argument happening at their camp. Everybody was getting involved, even Brad. A few punches and witty comments were thrown, and soon it became a completely nonsensical cacophony of four weirdos yelling over nothing. 

Somewhere in their hearing range (but drowned out by all their arguing), a shrill, threatening laugh echoed through the wasteland.


	2. Backstory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short, Terry focused chapter. There’s no violence against Brad and his party yet (sorry!), but Terry is definitely pissed off from thinking about Brad’s foolery. Terry is going to cause problems and not even Jesus Christ himself can stop him.

Terry’s ugly, threatening laugh was possibly the loudest thing Olathe would ever hear. However, the ragtag group of travelers he was watching were too tied up in their argument-turned-fist-fight to notice his hyena-like howling laughter. Terry did not care about the lack of attention he was receiving, or will receive. As far as he was concerned, these jackasses were just a free comedy show. Something he could follow around and get a quick laugh out of.

As their violent argument died down, so did Terry’s laugh. He wiped a tear from his eye, watching his personal favorite- a hawaiian shirt wearing fly cosplayer- bury himself in his cape and walk at least 10 feet away from his least favorite- Brad fucking Armstrong. 

God, he absolutely hated Brad. Brad had saved him from that wild beast that chased him up a tree, and let him tag along for a little while. And then that fateful fucking moment. Terry could barely remember it. But he could remember (quite vividly) that Brad gave him up. He chose some _useless_ possessions over him, the Hint Lord himself. That was the first time Brad tried to kill him.

Terry was lucky Columbo was merciful. That gang leader who only spoke in broken Shakespearean patched up and reinvented him. Terrible Terry they called him. Terrible Terry, Lord of Hurts. Later Brad showed up and tried to kill Terry again. He could still feel the pain, the bullets grazing his cheek, the knives and punches and kicks. He collapsed. Brad had tried to kill him again.

He was forced to watch as Brad tore through the rest of the gang, actually killing them. He hasn’t seen Columbo since. He didn’t want to know what happened to that poor bastard.

Brad has left Terry with nothing. Terry picked up the sword that he looted from a corpse, examining his scar-covered face in the surprisingly shiny metal. He smiled. “Oh Brad,” he said to himself with a small laugh, “You are so fucking dead.”


	3. Fly Swatter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fly’s investigation into the notes ends poorly. It’s finally time for violence.

Fly had decided to distance himself from Brad (*gag*) and the other two losers. He had taken the two notes with him, as he wanted to prove Brad wrong and shove it in his ugly beaded face. As he stared them down, looking for any discrepancies that would confirm Brad was a delusional druggie shitbag, a single intrusive though pattern drowned out any coherency;

**_Brad might be right._ **

The notes were written in the exact same handwriting. The hearts over the I’s, the goofy child-like handwriting, the T’s being the biggest letter.... and, oh _god_ , Terry does start with a T. For a split second Fly considered eating the papers and returning to the group, pretending that nothing ever happened. Harvey was the only one that liked conversation, and if that stupid fish tried to bring up that incident, Fly knew he could just pick up Harvey and throw him. He’s only a fish, he can’t be that hard to send flying. 

Fly’s thoughts were yet again interrupted. This time by a third note. This new one fell into his lap, and for some reason he’s scared to look up. He settles for looking at the paper instead. It’s a simple, one-word note written in dark red pen. It reeks of cigarettes and formaldehyde and it’s stained with blood.

**HI :)**

**-T**

His grip on the paper tightened. Slowly, he looked up. 

The man bending down in front of him was covered in scars. They were all across his lips and cheeks and arms, Fly could even see some on his neck. The stranger’s spiked shoulder pads were beaten up and stained with blood, and his shirt had suffered the same wear and tear. His tangled, matted hair fell over his eyes, obscuring them. The newest thing about the man was his huge ass sword, which was shiny enough for Fly to see his own terrified reflection in. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Fly snapped. He hated how much his voice cracked. 

The stranger laughed at him. “Oh, does it really matter?” He said as he tilted his head to the side a little.

Fly, in a fit of pure rage from being laughed at, started yelling. “Don’t fuckin’ look at me with that shit eating grin! Tell me who the fuck you are!”

The stranger’s smile faded. As the stranger straightened his back and looked down on him menacingly, Fly could feel his heart rate increase. 

“Don’t be like that.” He raised his weapon, and Fly had no time to think before the blunt end of the weapon hit him square in the nose. 

He didn’t even have time to cover his nose before it happened again. And again. And again. And one more time, for good luck. 

“Be grateful. I’m just teaching you a lesson.” 

Fly spit out a tooth. His face was going to be significantly less pretty for the next couple of days. “What kind of bullshit fuckin’ lesson are you trying to teach me, asshole?”

”Stay away from Brad.” The stranger hit Fly one more time with extra force. Fly stayed conscious long enough to see that horrible bastard face wrecker pick up the nicer one of the notes and tear it in half.


	4. Even More Ugly Than Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fly tries to explain his face injuries without proving Brad right.

Fly woke up face first in the dirt. He felt as if someone was pounding a sledgehammer directly into his skull, so he made no effort to get up. The only sign of life he gave was a long, drawn out groan of annoyance. 

“Oh- Hey, Fellas! He isn’t dead!” 

Goddamnit, they stayed. Fly slowly turned over onto his back, looking worse than he usually does. It was daytime now, and the sunlight was more annoying than usual. Olan and Harvey stood over him for a split second, and then Harvey made a disgusted noise and stepped back. 

“Eugh! Holy fucking hell, what happened to your face?” 

Olan was more calm about it. “Yeah, what exactly happened? It looks like you headbutted a belt sander.”

”You look even more ugly than before! And that’s really saying something.” Harvey teased. He was really trying to keep the laughter out of his voice.

Fly growled. He only had faint memories of last night. Some scarred up guy that looked like he stared right at Death and spit on it. Some blunt end of a weapon he now couldn’t name bashing his face in. Something about Brad. A note being torn. 

_The weird hint guy happened_ , Fly felt his heart sink in his chest. _Brad was right. Hint jackass is alive. FUCK._

“Uh...” Fly hesitated. He certainly was not going to tell these people he thought Bradley the Cart Race Usurper was right. “Joy Boys.”

Olan titled his head to the side. ”Those screwed-up freakshows with the creepy masks? We would’ve heard them, they always come in singin’ something.” 

“Not these ones. There was two of them,” Fly was starting to get more confident with his lie. “and they were super fuckin’ quiet. It was.... unnatural.”

“Did you see what they looked like?” 

“Uh.... It’s all fuzzy. They hit me pretty fuckin’ hard. Had me down on the goddamn ground with a couple of fuckin’ hits. Dumb bastards.” 

Harvey eyed Fly suspiciously. Fly glared at Harvey, growling menacingly to assert his dominance over the small fish. 

The fish backed up, whimpering like a scared dog.

Olan sighs, exasperated. “I’ll believe it. I guess. Now c’mon, get off your sad little ass. We gotta keep moving.” 

Fly gave Olan the same look he gave Harvey, but Olan stood his ground and gave him an even more intimidating look. 

“Ugh, Jesus, fine. But I’m gonna bitch so fuckin’ much today.” 

“Yeah, that makes sense.” 

——————-

Terry was watching the men again. He heard everything. He scowled and spit on the ground, lifting up his weirdly pristine sword. “Can’t give me credit where it’s due, huh?” He studied himself in the blade. “Well, guess I’ll hafta make myself a little more visible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> headcanon: fly’s favorite word is fuck. he also has a bit of an NY accent. also terrible terry is an attention whore


End file.
